


How The Mighty Have Fallen

by Katzedecimal



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Food, Gen, Post-Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 00:16:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29767809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katzedecimal/pseuds/Katzedecimal
Summary: In the wake of the Apocalypse, the Archangel Michael finds she is no longer able to ditch out of some of her obligations.  She is not happy about this.  She's even less happy when she's forced to cross paths with someone she's been pledged to avoid.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 27
Kudos: 48





	How The Mighty Have Fallen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sodium_Azide](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sodium_Azide/gifts), [Applecalypse](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Applecalypse).



It was a damp and drizzly afternoon, which was _not_ helping Michael’s mood any. Her iPhone chimed again and she looked at it, then heaved a heavy sigh that was nearly a groan and looked around the street one more time. 

Of all the cities in the world, it had to be **this** one, of all the neighbourhoods in the city, it had to be **this** one, and of all the streets in the neighbourhood, it had to be **_this_** one. 

She did _not_ want to be here. She checked the text message again and sighed. It was wrong of her to think it but if that big black car would move, she could get this done and be on her way. She steeled herself and raised her hand. 

The miracle bounced right off the car. She frowned and tried again. This time it sizzled. Then the door of the bookshop she’d been hoping to avoid flung open and the shopkeeper looked out with an expression of false cheerfulness to snap, “Can I be of some assistance, Michael?”

She winced. “Aziraphale. I didn’t intend to disturb you…”

“Then why are you attacking my property?”

“That car is yours?” The renegade Principality stared at her. His eyebrows were raised and his mouth smiled in an expression of absolutely false polite helpfulness but in his eyes, a guarded hostility crackled that reminded her that Principalities were much, much stronger than Archangels. “I didn’t realise it was yours. I just wanted to move it, I just need the parking spot for a few minutes.”

“Oh I’m sorry but that spot is reserved.”

“It’s marked as a no-parking zone,” Michael pointed out reasonably.

“ **Reserved.** ”

“Right…” Michael sighed.

“I think you’ll find that the BMW further up the street will be leaving in a few minutes,” the renegade said. 

Michael looked. “The one alongside… the… _other_ bookshop….?” The Principality smiled cheerily and the Archangel pinched the bridge of her nose, “Right…. Thank you for your assistance…”

“It’s such a chilly afternoon. The bistro up the street does an absolutely scrumptious mulled wine to go with their onion soup - that is, if you don’t mind ‘gross matter.’” He smiled brightly, “Mind how you go!”

The bookshop door slammed shut and the locks and wards slammed into place. Behind her, she could almost swear that the big black Bentley parked in the ‘reserved’ spot was sniggering. Her phone chimed again and she went up the street to perform the requested miracle. 

* * * *

“What was that all about?”

Aziraphale settled back into his chair and reached for the wine bottle. “Do you remember I told you that the humans had started praying to the Archangel Michael?”

Crowley frowned, “And they were asking her to do things like cutting their etheric cords, right?”

“And finding parking spots, apparently,” Aziraphale nodded and picked up his glass, “She used to delegate those requests to the angelic choirs.”

Crowley paused mid-sip, “What, seriously? _That’s_ what the grunts have been doing??” Aziraphale bit his lips on a smile, nodding slowly as he filled his glass. “So angels who were building mountains and rolling out grasslands and being foot soldiers are now providing valet parking?” Aziraphale’s nodding got slower and deeper. Crowley rolled his eyes, “No **wonder** you kept avoiding Heaven!”

“Only now, she has to do it all herself.”

“ _What?_ ”

Aziraphale sat back in his chair, cradling his glass in his fingers, “Apparently the Almighty did a bit of housekeeping Upstairs in the aftermath of the Apocalypse. It’s Michael’s punishment. She has to fulfill all of the prayer requests herself, _in addition_ to her duties to the Host.”

“Oh, **that’s** got to keep her busy!”

“I believe that’s the point,” Aziraphale smirked. He sipped his wine smugly, “At least she’s still part of the Host - apparently, Gabriel’s been exiled.”

“You’re kidding?!”

Aziraphale shook his head and smacked his lips, “Nope. He’s been exiled to the World but he’s been stripped of his Archangelic abilities. He’s having to get by pretty much on his own. Had to find a job.” Abruptly he grinned a decidedly un-angelic grin, “Give me your phone if you’d like to see what he’s been doing?”

“Uh, _yeah_ ,” Crowley said, thumbing it open and handing it over. Aziraphale tapped it a few times then got up to sit on the couch beside Crowley and showed him the screen. Then they both nearly fell off it laughing.

“The Messenger of God is now an advertising mascot,” Aziraphale smirked.

“That’s almost poetic justice,” Crowley wheezed.

“Indeed!”

Crowley pocketed his phone then leaned back to gaze at his angel, “Fancy some of that onion soup at that bistro you like?”

Aziraphale wiggled delightedly, “Oooo! Temptation accomplished! …Though at this hour, we might have to pray to get a parking spot.”

**Author's Note:**

> Go to YouTube and search for "Jon Hamm Skip The Dishes" and prepare to be ~~amused~~ amazed.


End file.
